


The Sweetest Of Collisions

by smutpeddler



Series: Wanna Lose Myself In You [3]
Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Awkward, F/M, Flirty, Mostly observations, Pre-smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2018-06-07 08:45:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6797182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smutpeddler/pseuds/smutpeddler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You be you and I'll be me, today and today and today, and let's trust the future to tomorrow. Let the stars keep track of us. Let us ride our own orbits and trust that they will meet. May our reunion be not a finding but a sweet collision of destinies!"<br/>-Jerry Spinelli from Stargirl</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sweetest Of Collisions

They end up going for that drink. Sitting at the bar next to each other, her calf resting on his shin, her body close to his, his hand rests on the back of her chair and every time his fingers brush the exposed skin above her dress Remy can feel goosebumps explode on her skin. Sergeant Mike Dodds terrifies and excites her to the very core of her being and already she loves it. Every voice in her head is silent and with the ease he smiles and the openness in his eyes it's clear to the world it's the same for him.

It seems everything is the same for him. Every time his finger tips brush he feels himself pulling in a ragged breath and trying to remember the end of his sentence. It's hard to focus anytime she bites the corner of her bottom lip and even harder when her calf makes smooth strokes up and down his leg. There's so many levels that have been skipped, from the way they met to the immediacy of their first date to this moment here and now.

They both know after drinks the night should end. She's not that kind of girl despite what evidence might suggest. And he's definitely not that type of guy, taught to always be the gentlemen. And so they draw it out. Drinks are languidly sipped, conversations dwindle and are quickly sparked to life if only to spend more time in the others company. They both know there's only one way this night is supposed to end, with the promise of more, of exploration. That's how it's supposed to go.

"It's getting late," they're hollow words coming from his mouth, because while he knows it's true he doesn't want to believe it, a part of him truly doesn't, "We should probably call it a night."

She stirs her drink with her straw, "Yeah. I'm sure you've got pressing police matters early in the morning," her knee nudges his and she bites the corner of her lip, the ragged breath is like clockwork at this point. He predicts he can never stop.

"I wish I didn't," Mike doesn't know where the words came from. He can't remember thinking them, let alone willing them from his lips. But the foreign words spoken in his familiar voice ring true, "I really wish."

The silence that passes over them is palpable. They both wish the same thing. Neither want to let go of this moment. The normalcy of it all so seemingly strange for the both of them, "How about a nightcap?" Remy's surprise mirrors his own so much he can't help the chuckle and smile, "What?"

"Nothing," he throws money on the counter, standing to help her into her jacket and then slipping his own on, "A nightcap sounds like a good idea. Your place or mine?"

Remy thinks of that door. The locked violet door in her hallway. She doesn't want to think about it with him, Remy's not prepared to give up on whatever dream world this date is quite yet, "How about yours? I'm gonna make the assumption it's not as cluttered or as cramped as mine."

The laugh he gives is deep and throaty, it soothes her as his arm wraps around her shoulders, "The only thing procedural cop dramas get right."

"I don't think any of this is in procedural cop dramas," she laughs, her arm sliding under his coat and around the small of his waist, "The serendipitous coffee place total civilian doesn't sell well with them."

"Probably not," he stops at the door, kissing her temple, "But it sells with me."

"Well, I might have to play it harder," she hits the door with her hip and steps through it, Mike sliding behind her to keep the contact, "I have no relation to the NYPD at all and I'm definitely not a UC!"

He laughs, rubbing her shoulder as his free hand hails a cab, "I guess I have no other choice but to believe that."

She laughs, resting her head on his shoulder as a taxi comes to a slow stop at the curb, "I guess so."

They slid into the back seat with a patterned silence neither planned nor wanted. But it's comfortable. He gives the driver his address and they sit there in the comfort of each other one of her legs is thrown across his knee and he can't stop his hand from running up and down her goosebumped flesh. They never kiss, they never push the boundary but it's just barely. Stroking the exposed skin of her thigh and her thumb stroking the back of his neck, they manage to remain civil but neither quite knows if it's for the cabbie or themselves.  
There's some innocence they're both still feigning when both of them know it's come too far. Tonight will no doubt end exactly how it wasn't supposed too.

Remy holds her breath, distracting herself by looking at his building while the two men fumbled with currency, it's like most buildings in New York but she pretends it's the most beautiful building in the world when her heels hit the pavement and Mike offers her his hand. She smiles, "It's nice."

He rolls his eyes at her, "It's an affordable New York apartment," They walk towards the door, no longer touching, the air is heavy and it's hard to breath, "We can call it a night if you want. There's always tomorrow night."

She's standing in front of the lobby door. He's right. They can always call it a night. But Remy doesn't want too. If she had her way this night wouldn't end. Everything in her knows how she's feeling, how she's acting, it's silly. It's the hopeless romantic in her. It's the Madame in every Bastion. Taking a deep breath she hopes Mike can't see, she grips the handle and throws a look over her shoulder. Something that's innocent and sultry, but no doubt with a hint of whatever worry he's feeling, at least that's what she hopes comes out.

He laughs. It's more of a quiet chuckle but it takes over his whole face and it makes her smile too. And a fuzzy calm washes over them. The air is still heavy, everything still so real, but at the edges there's something warm and comforting. Something from each of them and something from just out of thin air.

**Author's Note:**

> God! I can't believe this is the most chronological of my stories. It follows so close. I guess I'm preparing for the worst.
> 
> Not a lot of dialogue in this one but that's the way it's supposed to be!


End file.
